Colonel Mustang and the Mohel
by BinaryTales
Summary: A Fullmetal Tale your Yenta won't tell you--a very personal injury sends Roy limping to the local authority on...infant circumcision? YAOI humor--dedicated to my Jewish friends and family at Passover


The Mustang and the Mohel

Rabbi Levi bombed his tea glass with another cube of sugar and gestured for his guest to help himself to some of the delicious honey cake his youngest daughter had made before _Shabbes_. He had shooed Rivkah out of his office with a wagging finger—the girl had become all flushed and excited when she saw the handsome young Colonel being helped out of his car. "Married you can get later," he scolded. "I'm thinking he's not here to ask for your hand, although a nicer girl he won't find should he live to see a hundred!"

It was odd to have a high ranking officer of the Amestrian State Military visit him. The Lieutenant who had arranged the meeting assured the rabbi that this was an unofficial visit and that no threat should be implied or suggested. "Actually, Reb Levi, this is just a personal visit, so don't be alarmed. The Colonel says he'd like to ask advice about some private research."

"An alchemist I'm not, but he can ask away," the older man agreed, secretly relieved. He'd heard tales of Ishbalans who went missing in the night and said prayers for them. He wasn't altogether sure they might appreciate it, but as he'd once told one of their priests, "if there's trouble, should I not help you? If they come for you now, why not the _Yiddisher_ tomorrow? That Bradley—he's no _mench_. May _Hashem_ bless and keep him—six feet under the snows on Briggs Mountain!"

"So, Colonel Mustang. That nice Lieutenant Havoc said you have questions. I'm listening. Alchemy I'm not knowing. A little Kabballah, maybe. A _bissle_ Gematria. So….?"

Mustang was perspiring heavily and his face was ashen. "This isn't academic, sir." A fine linen handkerchief blotted his dripping forehead. " This is a…matter of _biology_."

Biology? Perhaps he was wrong to chase off his daughter. "Would this be…" he began delicately, "A question about matrimony? You've met a fine _Yiddisher_ girl and you want to know about interfaith marriage?"

The Colonel flushed, "I don't know any, sir."

"You want I should find one? RIVKAH! Darling, bring us some more of that—"

"I'm not looking for a wife, thank you," the Colonel cut in hastily, "although I'm sure your daughter is lovely—"

"—and a fine scholar—oh, and such a cook you won't find in all of Central—"

"—I'm sure, and if I happen to know of a fine man looking for a wife I'll send him to your office, Rabbi Levi—"

The Rabbi studied the Colonel with a practiced eye. Then he nodded sympathetically. "_Faygeleh?_"

Mustang didn't recognize the word but he sure as hell recognized the inflection. He colored right up to his hairline and took a nervous sip of tea.

"If you're looking for a nice husband, I'm all out at this time. But believe me, a good _Yiddisher_ husband would take care of you to the end of your days, which should be long, please _Hashem_. And a very lovely commitment ceremony we could do here—of course you'd need to learn a bit about the faith—"

"It's a matter of faith I need to ask you about, sir." Mustang shifted uncomfortably in his chair and grimaced, as if his _tuchis_ was hurting him. "The _bris_, to be specific."

So that was it. The Colonel obviously had a friend or colleague who was _Yiddisher_ with a newborn son and was attending the ritual circumcision. Perhaps was even a bit nervous about what would go on at the ceremony. "You are a _Mohel_, am I correct?"

The rabbi beamed at him. "A joy and an honor, my friend, to serve my synagogue and my faith through the _brit millah_-what you are calling the _bris_. The symbol that a male child has joined the covenant of _Hashem_ and the brotherhood of _Yiddisherim_ throughout the world. A rite of passage, and I'm guessing you want to know what occurs so you won't be surprised?"

Mustang bit down on his lower lip and nodded briskly. "A little thing, and so quick and neatly done there is little pain to the guest of honor. You want details?"

_"Please."_

"You want I should call for a doctor? You're not looking well, Colonel, if I may say so. I would never have guessed that the details of circumcising a baby's _schmeckle_ could make a grown up war hero _varf_ all over my carpet. _Tch, tch…_if it makes you so ill perhaps I should talk with the baby's father, let him know it's not personal if you should excuse yourself when the ceremony starts. If you don't mind my asking who--?"

_"It's me."_

The Rabbi steepled his long fingers and drummed the tips together. "So…" He tugged gently at his beard. "Mmmm." He took a bite of Rivkah's excellent honey cake. "I'm not assuming you're converting?" he asked, half hopeful. "No? Then…._why?_"

Mustang grinned weakly. "Good hand and eye coordination?"

Then, without ceremony, he dropped his pants in the rabbi's office.

"_Oi veh is mir! _What a _tsuris_ you've gotten yourself into, you little _meshugeneh _Colonel!"

"Can you fix it or not?"

The rabbi gestured for permission to examine the damage. Mustang nodded, averting his eyes.

The old man whistled softly. "Teeth marks, no less? A _shande_. A real shame, this. You made some lady—some…person…very angry, maybe?"

"It….was…accidental…" He was certain that Hawkeye hadn't _intentionally_ discharged her sidearm while Ed was hiding under the desk giving him a blowjob that left him seeing stars right up until the gun went off—and so did a good portion of his foreskin. To be fair, Ed was currently in the infirmary getting a half dozen stitches in his scalp from where he rocketed upright and slammed his head into the metal railing on the underside of the desk drawer.

Roy had screamed, Ed had locked the door and they stumbled around like a pair of lunatics, each with a bleeding head of one type or another. Roy had ripped the sleeve off Ed's coat, wrapped it around his cock and howled for Havoc to get him to the hospital. He had waddled down out of the car and was half-way to the emergency entrance with an elephantine bulge tenting out the front of his uniform trousers when Havoc pulled him up short. "Listen, Chief---maybe we shouldn't go in there. You know they'll have to tell your commanding officer—and Hakuro would have a field day if you show up with your dick chewed up and Ed with a busted lip and a cut scalp."

"Fine!" Mustang grunted. "You got a better idea, Lieutenant?"

Turns out he'd been hitting on this pretty _Yiddisher_ girl whose father was a Rabbi and a _Mohel_, a priest who performed ritual circumcision. "Maybe he could give us a tip about who to ask—a TIP! Heheheh…get it??"

What Havoc got was a singed eyebrow. A quick phone call and Rabbi Levi had generously offered to meet with the wounded Colonel.

"I could do this---there's not much to work with, but…it's not right, using the consecrated instruments. And my little tools—they are for a baby's little _schmeckle_, not a big _schwanz_ like this."

Mustang looked desperate. "I don't care if you use a kitchen knife—"

The rabbi looked horrified. "_Trayf!_ Absolutely not kosher. I---wait a minute. I have an idea. You see this?" The rabbi held up a hand-tooled leather book jacket. "This is my hobby. I like to make beautiful things, _nu?_ A pair of belts for my brother. Even sewed a fine pair of suede slippers for my nephew's little girl. Everything is very sharp. Very fine edge. We could—"

"Whatever. And of course I will be glad to make remuneration for your time—"

The rabbi held up his hand and shook his head. "Absolutely not. "

Roy swallowed hard. "Please, I insist—"

The older man hesitated. Money was always hard to come by. It was, on the other hand, a _mitzvah_ to help someone in need. But then again, the Colonel would feel under obligation to him if he didn't accept payment. "Tell you what—I do this, and maybe you'll find something in my leather shop you might want to buy or have made for your manfriend?"

"Anything. Fine. Just…get it over with. _Please!"_

"What the fuck is this?" Ed stared ruefully at the thin leather coin pouch Roy dropped in his lap. "A get well present?"

"You always say I never give of myself. _Enjoy._"

It was pitifully small. "You can't fit more than—what—five hundred cenz in this."

Roy gave him an icy glance. "It cost me dearly. Nearly five thousand. Plus…a rather hefty…_tip."_

Ed examined it critically. "You let Black Hayate get to it? It's got teeth marks."

"Do tell."

"You wasted your money."

"Not at all."

"Lousy coin purse, you chintzy bastard."

"Lousy coin purse, yes." The icy glare became a knowing smirk. "But if you give it a kiss, Ed…it becomes a _suitcase_…"

THE END


End file.
